Chapter 13

Third Person’s POV

On the fourth morning of Miu’s stay, she woke before the palace itself fully stirred—before the clatter of cleaning palace staff and the soft rhythm of servants’ footsteps filled the halls.

She slipped out of her room cautiously.

The swelling on her face had finally begun to fade, the bruises settling into muted shades of yellow and green. Barefoot, she stepped into the corridor, the cold marble biting gently into her soles.

Ten years.

Ten years since she had last walked these halls.

Her fingers brushed along the walls as she moved, slow and reverent, as if touching a memory might ground her. Everything looked different—cleaner, brighter. Restored. The scars of fire had been erased beneath careful renovations, yet the space still carried echoes of what had been lost.

She barely noticed the sound of her own breathing.

Then a voice spoke from behind her.

“Young lady, what are you doing up so early?”

Miu froze mid-step.

She turned slowly.

It was Daliah.

Daliah studied Miu carefully.

Truth be told, she had been watching her since the moment the girl was brought into the palace. It wasn’t that Daliah doubted the Queen’s judgment—never that. But trust, especially within these walls, had long ceased to be a simple thing.

The crown had not rested easily on Lena’s head.

Even back when the previous Duke Christian had seized control during the rebellion, the objections had only grown louder. And when he had relinquished the throne after only five years, whispers still followed that decision through the corridors of power. Many nobles had refused to accept Lena, clinging fiercely to tradition—the unspoken law that the crown must remain within the royal bloodline.

Those beliefs had never truly died.

The reality of it all was simple, and dangerous.

The Queen had many enemies.

Too many.

And so Daliah remained cautious—especially when it came to allowing a stranger to wander freely within the closest reaches of the palace, so near to Lena herself.

“I…” Miu hesitated as she turned to face her, hands clasped tightly in front of her as though anchoring herself in place.

“I’ve been cooped up in that room for days now,” she continued softly. “I was thinking maybe…” Her gaze drifted down the hall, landing on the cleaning cart stationed near the far wall—cloths neatly folded, a bucket still half full from the early rounds.

She swallowed before looking back at Daliah. “Maybe I could help. Just a little. Do some chores.”

Daliah stiffened at once.

“No,” she said firmly. “That won’t do at all.” She stepped closer, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You are a personal guest of Her Majesty. You are not to be doing work around the palace—especially not in your condition.”

Miu opened her mouth, then closed it again, fingers tightening together.

“I’m recovering,” she said quietly, “not broken.”

Daliah shook her head. “Your bruises may be fading, but your body is still healing. The Queen would not approve.”

Miu lowered her gaze, but she didn’t back away.

“I don’t want to just lie there,” she pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. “Doing nothing makes it worse. Please… let me be useful. Let me earn my stay.”

The hallway fell into a fragile silence, the weight of her words lingering between them as Daliah studied her.

–

Lena’s POV

I woke up more exhausted than usual.

Even lifting myself out of bed felt like a negotiation with my own body. I dragged myself to the bath, leaning on the marble edge longer than I should have, letting the warm water chase away the heaviness clinging to my limbs. Today, of all days, I allowed myself to move slowly.

By the time I stepped into the main halls to begin the long list of scheduled duties waiting for me, the palace was already awake—sunlight spilling through tall windows, the faint echo of footsteps and sweeping brushes carrying through the corridors.

That was when I noticed her.

At first, she was only a figure moving steadily across the entrance hall, a broom gliding across the polished floor in careful strokes. Unfamiliar. Out of place. I slowed without realizing it.

Then she turned.

Miu.

She looked different. More stable. Working. Standing on her own two feet when I had fully expected her to still be curled up in bed, fragile and shaken.

I watched her for a moment longer than I should have, unseen, unnoticed. There was no self-pity in her posture. No fear. Just quiet resolve.

A breath slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

“This woman…” I murmured to myself.

My eyes followed her steady movements, my curiosity awakening alongside something deeper—something unsettled.

“…is interesting.”

I descended the grand staircase slowly, my footsteps echoing through the vastness of the main hall.

“I thought I ordered Daliah to keep you in your room until you’re fully recovered.”

My voice carried easily, the broom halted for a fraction of a second.

Miu jolted at the sound—but she did not turn around.

She straightened, then resumed sweeping as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

I stopped halfway down the stairs, staring at the back of her head, disbelief curling in my chest. The audacity of it struck me sharper than expected.

“When someone speaks to you,” I said, my tone shifting, sharpening, “you are expected to answer. Lady.”

Still nothing.

No glance. No bow. No acknowledgment.

I felt my jaw tighten.

“I am asking,” I continued, my voice dropping into something heavier, “what you are doing out here when you are supposed to be resting in your room.”

The broom dragged once more across the marble.

Then she sighed.

“You’re the one who brought me here without my consent.”

Cold. Flat. Unapologetic.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react.

My brow lifted slowly. “Are you… talking back to me?” I asked. “I don’t appreciate that tone.”

This time, she stopped sweeping.

She turned just enough for her profile to be visible.

“You told me to answer,” she said evenly. “Now you don’t like it when I do.”

Silence crashed between us.

My fingers curled against the railing as I stared at her.

I felt my jaw tighten—not in anger, but in thought. I had expected resistance, perhaps fear, maybe even gratitude wrapped in caution.

But this… This was something else.

She wasn’t lashing out. She wasn’t challenging me for power.

She was simply… holding her ground.

In my mind, I had imagined she might be difficult—feisty, even—after everything she must have endured.

I just hadn’t expected her to be like this.

Still lifting her chin, still baring her teeth, as if daring the world to try again.

And despite it, the thought didn’t make me angry.

It made me pause.

Maybe she simply isn’t used to kindness.

That thought softened something in me. Not everyone knows how to receive care without suspicion—not when life has taught them that every gentle hand comes with a cost. I let the tension slip from my shoulders and chose, quietly, to let it go.

Only then did I really look at her.

She’s wearing the uniform of the palace staff, hanging slightly loose on her frame.

“I’ll be leaving the palace today,” I said, almost absently, the words spilling out before I realized I was sharing them. “The northern bay was hit hard by the tsunami. I’m visiting the victims.”

The sweeping stopped, and I felt her listening.

“I’ll be back by evening,” I continued. “And I’ll have new clothes prepared for you. You’re a guest here—it wouldn’t be right for you to wear the staff’s uniform.”

I was halfway through the sentence when—

“Take me with you.”

I stopped.

“What?” I asked, turning fully toward her, caught off guard.

She faced me then.

“I… I want to help,” she said.

Her voice was different now—no edge, no distance. Just urgency. Resolve. A quiet kind of fire.

For the first time since I met her, she was looking straight at me.